


Beginning of an end

by moshelle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Trailer, Fantasy, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Humor, Hurt Tony, LOL my life is a tattered mess and so are my fics, M/M, Memories, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining Steve, Pining Steve Rogers, Pining Tony, Pining Tony Stark, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Slow burn fic, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Feels, angsty sex, don't know where I am going with this tbh, rough anal sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moshelle/pseuds/moshelle
Summary: Rendition of what Steve and Tony actually meant when they spoke in the Avengers Endgame trailer.Update: drabble turned story with a plot!Steve's never been a runner. He didn't run when he got beat up in that corner alleyway back in Brooklyn when he couldn't hold his own bones and his lungs shivered every time he took a breath. Didn't run when he saw extraterrestrial threats the first time they pierced the Earth's layer. Didn't run when he saw half his friends ashed away by Thanos. Didn't even run when he watched Bucky fall from the moving train, and the second time seeing him brainwashed and the third, crumbling into a pile of dust, mixing in with the Earth.But he did run when they buried Tony Stark ten feet down under after the end of the world.Except - the funny thing was - life for him was all a string of push and pull moments, of cat and mouse.He would run away from the life he knew that he didn't get to have Tony because he was dead, only to come face to face with a very-living Tony at the door.





	1. Chapter 1

"Do you trust me?"

His eyes twinkled like the stars of this other new-wordly constellation - glistening, like he seen all the tears and pain and was buried underneath it all - rotting like a corpse would when they deterioriate under flesh-eating worms on this barren wasteland. 

Yet, they never failed to swim with a sort of familiarity - of hot mugs of coffee in the early chilled mornings, bedsheets warm and cozy or the soft glow of yellow from dancing in the kitchen on late-night Saturdays or even the shine of the arc reactor that demanded from life something grander, brighter and more magnificent than the ordinary of Steve Rogers. 

Steve dug his boot on the hardened soil, sprinkled with soot. He imagined his body lying there lifeless before him, those callous fingers unmoving - no more of the beautiful way they would dance and tinker with robot parts and screws in the workshop. 

Steve shut his eyes tight. No. He did not want to think about how it would look. 

Heaving a breath through his tight-woven chest, he thought that if he didn't say it now, he might never get the chance to. 

But then again, maybe he never had the right to after all that had happened. 

So he settled for the in-between; lukewarm and modest like the small tug of a smile.

"I do."

_I love you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Tony meant to say but also never did.

He looked different.

Older. More tired. Much like he saw too much and lived too long on this world. Well, he did actually.

The stubborn, headstrong persona he was used to was watered down to something more quiet, sad. Those ocean blue eyes glimmered a dark navy, carrying that familiarity - like your favourite old blue coat nuzzled in the back of your closet that smells like coming home.

Tony tried focusing on that. He found it easier to push all his concentration in staring at those beautiful, sad eyes.

Tony didn't want it to end - didn't like how his heart would tug and eyes would wander when they glanced down at Steve's uniform. Didn't like how the dirt stains and crumby soot would slowly turn into gashes and wounds oozing a dark wine-coloured red. Didn't want to think about it but he did and it scared him so he thought of the only thing he wanted to ask - _had always wanted to ask -_ to know at least once in his lifetime, if this is the only life he gets.

_Do you love me?_

But perhaps he knew the answer already back in Siberia.

Maybe, sometimes, there were things bigger than Steve and Tony, and those things didn't necessarily need to be said or answered, but tucked away in his heart for another him in another world. 

Maybe they were a team in this universe and lovers in another.

"Do you trust me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this on a whim!


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way he could make it.

He was impossible. Impossible and utterly impulsive with the way he swung a metal shard the size of a tractor in a general sense of dazed misdirection until it floated mid-air, suspended - a frail thing – only to be sliced into a different million little pieces by Thanos’ soft swat of his gauntlet.

Steve lay idly by, his body heaving with difficulty breathing and it awfully reminded him of that Brooklyn boy centuries ago. The crumby ground dug into his scratched uniform and the smell of ash and fire burned his throat, nostrils, singed the edges of his gold hair until they were a musky brown. Eyes watering, he winced as he felt a sharp jab in his right leg. A gash opened its gaping wound up at him as the flesh around the edges burnt an ugly black.

“Steve!”

A few shards of metal rained upon him as he quickly twisted his body over until he lay on his side, tucking his body underneath his own shield as compact as he could, upon reflex. It hit the vibranium with a dull thud before rolling off the circular edges and digging their pointed tips underneath the sand.

“You good, soldier?”

He reached for Natasha’s outstretched hand, grasping the leather glove as he heaved his own lead-laden body from the uncomfortable heap of rubble and ash.

He scanned his gaze across the ruined terrain – subconsciously, always, looking for him.

“Guys, over here!”

Clint was setting an arrow on its bow, pulling the strings taught and posed in a situation where he would need to release it.

Steve and Natasha paced over in wide strides, urgent and stern. Steve saw a flash of bright flame zoom over, the machinery hovering slightly above ground before dropping down onto the ground. He could hear the taut synthesized voice of Tony speaking through the mask.

“Better get on with it, Clint. Don’t think Hulk can handle him much longer.”

Turning to face all of them, Clint loosened his grip on the bow.

“If I could just get maybe a clear shot to attach this detonator on him, maybe we could distract him and then ambush-“

Steve thought he saw Tony clench his fists, turning to face Clint directly.

“Clint, I’ve got a plan –“

“Tony, there is no use to just attack blindly – “

“That isn’t true”

  
They have been wasting time. Steve straightened his shoulder and spoke sternly. He didn’t mean to sound harsh or patronizing, but if it meant saving the team and even so, saving the world, he would take patronizing any day.

“Tony”, Steve looked over at Tony, eyes emotionless and void of any emotion, “he’s right.”

And there it was again – that tension. The ugly silence that filled only after each time when Tony and Steve had butt heads on yet again another decision.

Igniting his thrusters, the suit hovered a few seconds before skyrocketing towards the sky.

Sighing, Steve flung his shield to attach to his back. He felt defeated again - it was a normal mood these days. He felt the soft touch of Natasha’s hand on the warmth of his shoulder and gave a sombre nod in response.

“He’ll never stop driving you crazy, huh?”

Steve felt a small tug on the corner of his lips.

_Probably not._

***

_“Oh, Tony”_

_The buzzing of bees padded from petal to petal, settling their inky black legs on the sticky yellow of pollen. Sunday 9 th of April basked in the golden warmth of lazy sunny days. Sunlight seeped through the halfway-drawn navy curtains that prior worked so well to cloak the room in lazy sleep-in afternoons. The room was filled with a soft glow, and everything felt just so bloated, much like a cat stretching its languid body before draping their limbs lethargically over off-coloured floral embroideries of an elderlies couch. _

_Everything was full and brimming with a soft hum of contentment._

_The outline of two bodies blanketed by the soft white sheets undulated gently of the bed as moans filled the room._

_Tony let out a blissful sigh as he allowed himself to be taken by the pleasure of it all – to be taken care of by Steve, as his lover traced the olive outline of his neck down over the toned muscles of flesh and dipping crevices of his ribs with lazy pecks and kisses. His favourite was when he felt the suction and twirl of Steve’s wet, pink tongue dashing over a certain spot he found that he would like to mark for keepsake later on._

_“You like that, Tony?”_

_Tony let out a chuckle as he tilted his head forward and quirked a small smile._

_“Such a tease”_

_Steve responded with a laugh of his own, coursing down lower and dipped his tongue in all the right places next to his inner thigh. Tony could feel the warm breath of air blowing lightly on his growing erection. It chilled him to his bones._

_Tony’s eyes fluttered close and Steve remembered thinking how he ever got so lucky, having to wake up every morning to bright brown eyes that twinkle when he discovers new ways to improve a gadget or eyelashes that flutter when he even gets a teensy bit nervous. Steve caught a small whisper._

_“Please”_

_Grabbing hold of his lover’s thighs and spreading them roughly apart, Steve risked a quick glance at the clock looking disapprovingly onward._

_9:53 am._

_SHIELD could damn well wait until he was finished with Tony (not that he was ever quite done with Tony anyway)._

_He gripped the base of his lover’s cock and felt pleased to hear the strained moan he elicited from above. Licking a stripe from base to tip, he massaged the hardened flesh in his palm until it was slick with pre-cum, making sure to pay extra diligence to the flushed tip, twirling his tongue whilst he was at it, before popping off the cock with a wet, slicked moan._

_He gazed up at Tony and could see that his body had become tense with arousal, and his chest heaved with deep breaths. A warm brown had flushed beneath his skin, giving him an ethereal glow as his head was thrown back against the muffled pillow, eyes shut tight and lips open. Steve could tell how much he loved it by the way his fingers weaved themselves through his golden locks, tugging insistently at the roots._

_He was beautiful._

_Steve drifted his focus down towards the cock he palmed, rolling and pumping the flesh with languid strokes._

_“Steve – don’t. Please –“_

_“Oh, Tony”_

_With that, Steve engulfed the throbbing flesh, bobbing his head mercilessly, as he held down the shaking thighs of his lover._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this drabble accidentally became a story with a plot!


	4. Chapter 4

He never did fail to drive him crazy. That part was true – even though sometimes Steve wished it wasn’t.

It’s like a birthmark you wished weren’t there – something you could scrub off – until you learn to stare at it and come to accept it for what it is: a part of you.  

He didn’t fail to drive him insane when he disobeyed orders for the last time and flew to drive a stake right into the middle of Thanos’ heart.

Didn’t fail to snap the last string of all logic and reason from his mind, of which Steve had never experienced such loss of control, as he witnessed the smooth glide of metal that pierced the armour, imagining Tony’s body, limp with unbearable pain.

He shook. Shook until he felt like his bones were rattling and crumbling beneath his very flesh. Shook like he never had before – not even when he came out of the ice.

There were spots of ember flames snaking through the debris, and the sky loomed with the iron tanginess of rotting flesh and blood all mixed together.

Gripping the leather brown belt, he strapped down his shield with the last remaining muster of strength and all rage he had in his fear-rattled body and headed straight for his one and only mission.  

It didn’t matter if he achieved it. He just needed to die trying.

What a beautiful way to die for someone you love.

***

_Tony was nearly finished with his bottle of whiskey at an old shed house stuffed full with all his father’s old mechanical nuts and bots on a farm in the countryside. He didn’t even know Howard used to have an old workshop out on a farm – didn’t know that his father knew anything aside from luxury and modern science._

_He tipped the bottle over his mouth and was rewarded with a few meagre drops of alcohol. It was a downpour outside, drops of rain coming in heavy torrents until it pelted against the metal rooftop and sounded a constant rumble that echoed through the hollow interior._

_The shed. It reminded him of the farmhouse that the Avengers once took refuge back at Clint’s place. Reminded him of the ugly argument between him and Steve._

_Throwing the empty bottle off to the side somewhere, he swatted his hand drunkenly over to the side, clutching the neck of another whiskey bottle. Bringing it to his lips, he took a swig of the bitter liquor, savouring the slimy burn down his throat._

_Tomorrow was the big day. And if he was going to die in Thanos’ hand and never get to have a drink, then tonight is his chance._

_The only thing Tony couldn’t understand was why, out of all places, he chose this old shack to revel in the last night of his life. Perhaps he was finally sick of the rich, aristocratic lifestyle he led – of champagne parties, plastic smiles and waxy compliments. Here, he could at least sulk in his misery without someone at least trying to pretend to care about his fucking wreck of a life._

_He did think about Pepper, Rhodey and Happy though. Thoughts often bubble to the surface on whether he should’ve spent time with them on his last day instead of just spending his night alone. Peter – too – if he was still –_

_Fuck._

_Peter._

_He heard a distant shatter of glass and stared down at his shivering, callous hands. And there was a faint knocking in the far corner of the dark room where the door was._

_Knocking. What, why –_

_“Tony”_

_Steve._

***

_Tony should’ve known that they would somehow come back to each other._

_He thought maybe their reunion would be melancholic, gentle and a hint of tragedy. Instead, what he saw before him was a Steve soaked wet and dripping until there was a gritty little puddle pooling around his muddy boots. He stared at Tony like an animal gone feral._

_“Steve, what –“_

_Tony was muffled by a crash of his lips against the soft, warm flesh of Steve’s as he was pushed against the wall. The scratchy surface of the wood dug into his back but all he could think was just how perfectly his lips slotted against Steve’s, flesh conjoining into one, even after years apart, chipped by weariness and life._

_He moaned as he felt the slip of a tongue inside, coaxing the fleshy pink of the warm inside of his mouth, seeking out the ridges and crevices that Steve had memorized for so long. Steve prodded at Tony’s legs, willing for them to open by pushing his own knee hard up against his groin and rubbed, feeling the growing erection against his thigh._

_Tony whined and keened like a bitch in heat, throwing his head against the wall as he continued to rub against Steve._

_Nuzzling the tip of his nose into Tony’s neck and breathing in the scent of him, he was taught to take what he could get and he would come to later learn to lick from bottom to top the neckline of Tony, tasking of sweat, dirt and tears and kiss the tips of his fingers after._

_“Oh, Steve”, Tony tugged at his hair until Steve’s insistent latching on broke away, “make love to me”_

_Steve had never felt such fire burn in the pit of his stomach, heating up his skin until he felt every needle prick his skin and even tears forced their way out, rolling down his cheek until everything was just a messy blur of memory and the present moment._

_Steve unlatched Tony’s belt, roughly pulling down his boxers and jeans in one swift moment as Tony undid his._

_Stuffing his own mouth and wetting his digits with saliva, he roughly felt the hot twitching hole of the man he loved, not that Tony needed preparation anyway, as he was slick with an inhumane amount of horniness._

_Gripping the base of his cock with one hand and hooking his other arm under Tony’s thigh, he breached the rimmed hole and pumped himself in and out, in and out, in and out, inandout inandout inandout._

_A crazed man - he has been starving for him for too long._

_Lifting Tony’s other thighs, he revelled in the tight, fluttering heat and kissed his lover, moans muffling and drifting up towards the drumming rooftops of rain, like dust swirling and illuminating themselves in the air of a moonlit sky; like a darkened orchestral ensemble lighting up with the commanding wave of the conductor._

_After sex, they lay on a rugged, plaid mat Tony managed to pull out from being wedged between one of the shelves in the shed._

_They talked about a lot of things._

_Caught up on their lives, talked about the stars, constellations and universe. How maybe there was a parallel replica of another Steve and Tony somewhere. Whether Steve still drew dancing monkeys on wheels like his old army days or whether Tony had managed to fix the defective arm that sometimes DUM-E seems to carry around stuttering and smoking. About how Tony was waiting for Peter to get into college before gifting him a car. About how Tony knew that the kid framed a photo of them and wrapped it up neatly as a Christmas gift but he pretended he didn’t know anyway because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise._

_About tomorrow._

_Steve also wanted to bring up what he couldn’t stop thinking about for the past years, but by then, Tony pressed his fingers against Steve’s lips and kissed him again._

_They made love for the whole night instead._

_-_

_Morning came and they were back to being strangers._


	5. Chapter 5

“Steve –“

 A hand was on his shoulder. It wasn’t Tony’s hand. He wanted to shake it off. He didn’t want anyone but Tony to touch him.

Natasha’s voice pulled him out of his catatonic state a bit.

“He’s gone”

Why was everyone telling him that? Can’t he just hold Tony in silence.

There was a sense of urgency in Romanoff’s voice. She wasn’t one to break, ever, from the time he got to know her but she did now.

“You’re hurt Steve. We need to get you out of here quickly before –“, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath like it pained her to do so. “The rest of the team will clean up as efficiently as they can but we need to get you out.”

So, it was over. They won. He should know this because right after whatever happened, he was met with the weary sighs of his team, pain, grief, and yet a hint of relief and hope that maybe this would be the last war ever.

But anything before that he couldn’t remember anything, couldn’t see anything but Tony.

Tony’s voice muffled with pain as Thanos’ palm clamped over his mouth – those lips that he spent kissing the whole of yesterday night – while he dug the shard deep into his ribcage.

Tony’s body tossed over to one side like some mechanic junk.

Tony going limp.

Tony tilting his head to the side to look at Steve one last time as a teardrop slipped its way done the slope of his olive nose.

Tony. Dead.

And then Steve was heaving again, clutching his cold body as he sobbed quietly into his ash-brown hair, kissing his forehead, cheek, any skin that he could touch to warm him up. Natasha buried her face in Steve’s neck, clutching them both, before hitching Steve by his armpits, softly pulling him away from the one dear thing he couldn’t live without.

“Come on, Stevie”, she whispered, tears staining her cheeks, “you have to let him go.”

He saw Rhodey gently taking over, kneeling beside Tony. Brushing the hair out of Tony’s face, Rhodey kissed Tony’s eyes – one at a time, before pressing his forehead against his best friend.

They all held him for a long time. Everyone stood around him for a long time.

All the while, a broken sob and gut-wrenching scream shook the sky.

 

***

 

They buried him a week later.

Or that’s what Steve heard since he didn’t go when they lowered his casket down into the earth.

It was as if these days his mind and body were detached into two completely separate things. There was always a sort of inkling of scorn berating him for not being there for the funeral of his lover and yet he couldn’t understand that there was a sense of innate emptiness that had curled its way into his heart, digging so deep within that he would wake up every night shrieking and clawing at his chest, trying to get that hollow itch out of his possessed body. Other days, he would reminisce back to the time at the shed when he had buried his cock deep into his lover and made love to him until the sun came up. Those days he woke up screaming his lungs out whilst he came into his bedsheets, tears and sweat running down his taut aching body and pooling into the ridges of his wounds. He was a mess. A nerve – like Bruce once said – exposed, defective, insane for his craving of Tony. For Tony to be warm and breathing and nuzzled up next to him again.

Steve wished he could say that some days were better but the darkest truth was that it was all just a blurred, hollow tunnel of life, ghosting in and out of his days like a corpse just waiting for something, anything, to kill him. Because everything reminded him of Tony and that was a slow painful way to die.

Tony’s coffee cup. Silk bedsheets of Tony. Tony’s waft of cologne each time he opens their old wardrobe. His teammates that only served to exist to mirror the tragedy that they lost Tony. Tony’s workshop when he decided to finally pick up some drawing pencils and canvases he accidentally left there years ago, buried in a cardboard box in the corner that he thought maybe Tony never managed to abandon.

Tony’s tower that he was fucking living in.

 

He probably needed to move out.

 

*** 

 

Clothes that could last him for about a week? _Check._

Shower towels? _Check_.

Other toiletries? _Check._

Notepad and drawing pencils? _Check._

His uniform?

Steve picked up the hefty metal vibranium and dusted the edges of his shield. The dust rolled beneath his fingers and he could momentarily remember the battle with Thanos just a little over two weeks ago. He flipped it and brushed the star on the front, spotting some crusts of dried blood. He placed it down onto the soft bedsheets of his neatly made bed and went over to the wardrobe, plucking out one of Tony’s grey worn blazer. Burying his nose and taking a drag of his scent like a dazed addiction, he carefully plotted it back onto the rack before gently sliding the door.

Picking up his duffel bag, he heaved his way out of the tower – but not before turning around on his heels and grasping a grey tie for keepsake.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to ever get over Tony and somehow, he was alright with that.

 

***

 

It hasn’t even been a few hours before his phone started blowing up.

It was testing Steve’s patience really, because if he wasn’t allowed to answer the calls from whom it must be either a roulette possibility of Natasha or Fury (he almost missed that motherfucker after they ashed him away), he damn well wanted to chuck it into the blur of bushes rushing by on either side of him as he took his trip to god-knows-where on his motorbike.

He was hoping to find a motel that he could at least afford – not too shabby, maybe with a few local grocers here and there but he wasn’t particularly fussed. He lived in worse conditions before.

The engine spluttered and choked, bouncing unsteadily on the wide expanse of concrete road. The old girl needed to rest real soon and Steve hoped he could make it in time to a local petrol station. With the sun beating down on the earth, he could see the burn on the road and the leather seat was starting to make a very uncomfortable ride.

Pushing on, Steve turned his concentration on the path ahead, breathing in the musky trail of dust and sand as few bushes and rocky landscapes receded by like he was travelling in one of Thor’s weird portals through space and time. He savoured the brief and rare moments when a chilled breeze would drift by, catching the taste and smell of smoked up gunmetal.

Not before long he would twist the handles of his vehicle, veering a turn into a local station. Steve kicked his motorbike into place and plugged it to quench the thirst of a dehydrated engine.

“Aren’t ya the Captain?”

A man with a scraggly beard adorned with few rotting yellow teeth quirked his lips into an odd smile. The man picked at his tattered red cap with his dirt-crusted nails, rolling a paper cigarette in another.

He must’ve been frustrated because Steve wasn’t answering him and for some odd reason, he needed Steve to answer him. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone?

“Well? Are you Captain America?”

“Uh yeah… I guess so”, Steve narrowed his eyes, “why?”

The man gave him a shrug, like just a minute ago he wasn’t pissed.

“Just wanted to know”

And then he trailed off past the station back to his truck, rolling and unrolling the cigarette papers like he just did things for fun.

Stuffing his own hand into his jeans, he pulled out a tattered dollar note before walking to the counter to pay off his check, grabbing a few mints on the way. The woman at the counter was a raggedy old elderly, full of wrinkles that set into a permanent scowl as her bony fingers tapped at the register. You would think she’d retire in her last days but perhaps working was a better lifestyle than being stuck in a nursing home.

Her voice croaked in broken syllables, so Steve had to patiently wait and string the sentences together to fully understand her. Her lip wobbled, like she required every push of her strength to speak, looking as though she might collapse at any moment.

“You…yah new around here, boy?”

“Yes ma’am”

She gave a light chuckle, green eyes brightening up.

“Good to…know someone got manners”

Steve gave her a small smile albeit her being a bit odd, she was nice. She pushed her face right up against him until he could catch a faint whiff of her stenched breath, squinting her eyes at him like she was extremely interested in studying such a new specimen.

“Look like a man that…that seen death, no?”

He stiffened. _Just coincidence._

She chuckled, lightly patting his forearm.

“Off you go now, boy”

Turning to walk back out the door, he couldn’t fathom as to who she was or why she said such things. He might not have spider senses like Peter that Tony liked to talk about. But he couldn’t ignore the strange coiling in the pit of his belly as he settled back on his motorbike and rode off North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a pretty slow-burn sort of fic but I swear something is going to happen soon! :')


	6. Chapter 6

He made it on perfect time as he hit up an old local motel and dumped his belongings onto the rugged floor. The sun was just setting over the horizon as he watched the orange-red beams bleed into each other on the cramped balcony, spilling their glow over the sparse rooftops of homes and shopfronts. Few locals milled about, pulling down the binds or locking their stores as they got ready to rush home for dinner. There were no shouts of play from kids so it must’ve been in the middle of the week. Steve used to come out onto the streets to play ball on a Friday evening anyway. Not that he was any good at it since he would have to catch his breath every few seconds, but it was nice to see Bucky. Sighing, he flopped onto the bed and gazed up at the ceiling crackled with paint.

_Brooklyn. Bucky. Captain America. Ton- SHIELD._

They were all such strange terms now. A blurred fuzzy concept.

Kicking his shoes off, he curled his knees under the blankets and nuzzled his nose against the pillow, drifting into the hazy comfort of sleep and void emptiness.

*** 

It was his body that reacted first, shooting up from his covers and freezing momentarily, before his mind could really catch up.

The door was rattling so hard from the loud banging and he could hear screams echoing throughout the entire hallway.

“LET ME THE FUCK IN”

The voice was strained, screaming, desperate and hurting. Steve’s soldier persona tells him to be wary: _eyes open, stay sharp_. Yet, as he turned over to instinctively grab his shield, he only felt the absence of it, cursing under his breath, that maybe this was the time he needed it now more than ever – when he was sleep deprived, starving and just in no way to be in even a functioning state of mind.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE”

Even the wall was vibrating and Steve thought maybe the door would come unhinge in no time.

Rushing, he threw himself against the wall, willing himself to stay completely still as he turned the doorknob in one swift moment before tactfully maneuvering the body in front of him as he shut the door. Pinning the figure down by the wall, he tore down the leather hood soaked wet from the rain that must’ve come down during the night.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve snapped in his ear, roughly tugging his face to clearly see him in the dim motel light.

“Jesus – _ow_ , I come in fucking peace!”

The blood must’ve been drained from his entire body because the next thing he knew, Tony scowled at him, disdain his primary emotion.

“Fuck – didn’t know I sought refuge from a _fucking_ _vampire_!”

*** 

“Hey – honey boo”, Tony snapped his fingers in front of Steve, “snap out of it, will you? I’m going to get killed!”

Tony – Tony in front of him was peering through the peephole of the door, muttering incoherently like he always did before he got lowered into… into the grave.

Tony that he kissed and held through all those years, back in the Tower, when sunlight would shine through and they would cuddle until late afternoon on a Sunday. Tony that he fought and argued with about anyone and anything. The Tony that Steve would carry back to their bedroom after long consecutive hours of seeing his lover tire himself out in the lab. Tony that he smashed his shield against and watched as the arc reactor flickered shut, along with his heart and soul that they both once pledged to each other. Tony that he missed after so many years after Siberia, how he clutched his own body tight at night, rocking back and forth to quell his sobs because he missed him so fucking much. Tony that he saw after all those years when the call was finally made but it was made by Bruce and Steve was just happy he got to see him at least once more in his lifetime. The Tony that he spilled the entirety of his being into the night they made love before the battle. Tony that he saw got ripped away from him and how Steve was no longer the same after that. Steve often liked to think of himself like a cat - having nine lives and all, each one dying and the next having cruelly thrust him to move on. And Steve did try to move on, move on from a life without Tony, move to another world - a remote one, where he could live off his days in something less than perfect but bearable. 

But he should've known it wouldn't be that easy. The world wasn't done torturing him yet.

Tony was here. Breathing. Living. Swearing. Calling him honeyboo.

And he didn't meant it. But the way it sounded, the memories tagging along – it was all too much for him that he went into a state of catatonia.

He made his way over to the bed, gently placing his shaking form onto the soft white sheets, clutching his chest as he felt the rapid beating of anxiety and nervous shock.

What the actual fuck was going on?

“Right, okay so there are currently three hunk of a men outside in the hallway –“

“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN, STARK!”

“ - and I’m incredibly sorry to have cut you from your beauty sleep –“

He was rummaging around in his pockets, tugging out a few stray cigarettes and a lighter.

“- but if you let me set fire to your room, I will gladly pay you in –“

“Did you say you were going to set fire to my –“

Steve stood up in a panic, wide eyes like a couple of saucer plates as he grabbed Tony by the collar. His super soldier defense instinct never really left him. The banging on the door rose to a crescendo, and the muffled husky voices of men hushed outside the door. Not only a second later, the door burst open and two men in dirty corduroy jackets rushed in, hands bare and ready for a kill.

He had to act fast. Ripping the bedsheet and throwing it as a distraction tactic, he used it as a chance to land three punches to the gut of the first men, rendering his body a massive weight to throw in front of the other perpetrator. The loud crackling of glass shards echoed within the room and only then did Steve turn around to see Tony hitching his leg up over the window frame, brown hair ruffling in the cold chilly breeze.

“Tony!”

He rushed over, trying to pull the stubborn man back to safety but he wrenched his arm away.

“What are you doing?!”, Tony shouted in his face.

“It’s too dangerous!”, Steven shouted back.

“Oh fuck off, prince charming!”

The men lying on the ground started to rouse, groaning and muttering profanities under their breath. Oddly, a stench of smoke drifted to Steve’s nose, the haze stinging his eyes. He spluttered a few times before covering his own mouth and nose with his own arm. He glanced around to see the source of the smoke, only to land his gaze on a small flame licking up the side of the bed from a lighter. He had to think fast. Pacing over to the two men by the floor, he took a hold of each other their arms, before dragging them, semi-conscious, towards the window.

“Oh, you got to be shitting me!”

Tony was staring at him like he was some rabid dog – unsure of whether to run or freeze and hopefully allow the issue to steam roll away.

The men were heavy, their legs too weak to sustain the bulk of their weight. Steve continued to persist, dragging the human dumbbells over to the side of the window. There was a fire escape route just outside that led to the town below. If he could just get them out the window and roll them down the stairs and place them at ground floor, they could get away without having harmed anyway in the process. Yes – that’ll do, he thought.

“Tony! I need you to take one body and chuck him down the – “

Steve should’ve known that Tony was already making his way down the escape route.

“Goddammit”, Steve muttered. He holstered one of the perpetrators over the window, allowing him to rest on the stairs before hoisting the other body over the window. He piled one body on top of another before giving them an invigorating push, watching the limp figures jostle down the bumpy stairs like flesh tumbling through a slaughterhouse. Rushing down the stairs, he jumped the last few steps, feeling the pricked rocky debris of the concrete ground under his bare feet before chasing after Tony. He was pretty sure there were shrieks and wails from inside the building and a red-faced motel owner that came bustling out, cursing on the street.

 *** 

Laughter and giggles filled the early morning breeze like the dance of sing-song melodies ringing through the cobbled plaza. The sun was just starting to peep through the cobalt blue murky swamp of clouds that huddled over the town. The weather seemed to have been quite temperamental these days, indecisive of whether it should brighten up the world with its warmth or remain cold and distant in the middle of the year. With the floral scent of roses and chrysanthemum drifting over garden beds of millions of multi-coloured tulips rearing their heads to the sky, it was almost a beautiful day – if not for Tony feeling like utter shit, running on less than two hours of sleep and a bad drinking habit he couldn’t seem to shake off.

Not only that, he just so happened to get into some trouble with some hot shot clubbing men that probably smoke pot for a career, after inadvertently hitting on one of the fine ladies he spotted by the local pub. His redeeming quality – in his defence: he would’ve gotten the nice blonde a dinner at the burger and fries diner – throw in a large chocolate milkshake at that. Too bad that she decided to sneak a cheeky hand down the side of his thigh, palming his groin and the next thing he knew, he got thrown out into the sopping rain with all his fingers somewhat bruised or fractured on some degree and a broken nose. To his luck, he strolled across the pub to a pharmaceutical store, hitching a supply of bandages. He bandaged his left hand tightly, tearing the white cloth with his teeth to secure his injury and wandered straight back into the pub, whisking down a shot of vodka before heading straight to the men that punched him and proceeded to smash his only good hand into his fucking teeth. Naturally, his mate jumped in and in no time, he was rushing out onto the street and dashed into some random ass motel room. The effort the men took to chase him down was beyond his understanding. Maybe they had the egos of a shrivelled wiener.

And now there was this problem of him accidentally incurring a blonde jock hot on his tail. Tony knew of his magnetic charisma but _seriously –_ he wished for loneliness to come back. He was a charming man, he wasn’t going to deny it, but Tony was pretty sure he never seen this man in his life any more than he can remember a time when he was sober, but the guy acted like they were long lost lovers! He could almost taste the alcoholic puke threatening to bust out his throat.

He sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder and _christ_ , he was catching up.

He caught a glimpse of the muscle power the blondie had, calves and body pumping out a rhythmic sprint, steadily inching closer and closer. It wasn’t too long before the blondie caught up with him, seizing hold of his wrist and dragging his protesting body over to a nearby alley, pinning him against the dry-cut bricks.

“No rush, we can rip each other’s clothes off after you let me go and take me to dinner”

Behaviorally, it didn’t seem to phase the blonde man.

Physically, he smirked at the light blush that had already begun to crawl up the side of his neck and cheek – or maybe he was just aroused by the possibility of bashing Tony’s head in.

Tony sometimes did that to people – drive them crazy, he means.

The collar of his blouse tightened in the clenched fists of the stranger. His body was lifted momentarily before being pushed down onto the roughed-up surface of the brick wall.

“TELL ME HOW THIS IS POSSIBLE!”

He winced, rolling his shoulder to hopefully ease the pain without having the luxury to rub it with his palm.

He tried swatting the hands away, only managing to scratch and slap weakly at the surface of his strong, big hands.

“Chill, Goldilocks”, his collar was getting too tight around his neck, “lay off the choking, will you? Save it for the bedroom”, Tony muttered.

Tony thought he caught a glimpse of guilt flash across the man’s expression, immediately withdrawing his hand like Tony was some hot stove that he burnt himself with. He wouldn’t even look up from the ground he was staring at.

Tony brushed his shoulders with annoyed frustration.

“Right so – if you stop being a shmuck and help me find a safe place to camp out before those men catch up to me, I will gladly answer your questions - which by the way I still don't fucking understanding why your screaming at me but hey”, he slapped the broad shoulder of the other man, "we can always work on communication".

Steve fumbled with the hem of his white shirt.

“Did you owe them money or something?”

Flaring his nostrils, Tony took a whiff of morning air and shrugged.

“Hit up one of the chicks”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

There was a knotted frown etched onto Steve’s face as he worried his bottom lip. Tony tried not to pay attention to that.

“I… I left all my stuff back at the motel. Shouldn’t you…”

Tony scoffed, running his fingers through his mud-stained hair.

“I’ve actually been hijacking any place I could sleep in. Crashed my car back when I was still driving on some highway. Can’t remember much except when I kicked my way out the crushing car door, I rolled out just in time for the whole thing to go up in flames”, Tony gazed off into the distance, scanning his wary eyes over the mist that had settled on the local streets. He turned to Steve, giving him a shit-eating grin, “and I got this cool scar up near my eyebrow”.

Steve nodded, studying his features carefully for that little scar and maybe, he was still looking for the old Tony, because this Tony doesn’t seem to have any recollection of him.

“Come on, old man. You look like some bodyguard I could use”.

Steve was always a wary guy, and it reflected in his stature, shifting indecisively until he decided to follow.

He had to know who he was, and he was almost sure Tony wanted to know who Steve was as well.


End file.
